I was born in Kensington. My father was a composer. My mother came from a rich home, and was, I believe, incurably romantic. She married my father, despite the half-hearted protestations of her family, who felt that to marry a musician was very nearly as bad as to marry into trade, and much less secure.
|My old copy of The Beautiful Visit (1950), Howard's first novel|
|Slipstream, her excellent autobiography|
|The Tartarus edition of Three Miles Up, Howard's own collection of strange stories|
I had a dream some years ago that I bumped into the ageing but still beautiful Elizabeth Jane Howard at a party, and she shared with me and me alone some confidential snippets about her tempestuous relationship with Robert Aickman so many years before. Until a few days ago, I was hopeful this unlikely event may somehow occur.
Farewell Elizabeth Jane Howard.